The Party
by Lozwithasideofcheese
Summary: As Alfred's designated driver and the only one willing to chase him about when he goes to get drunk, Matthew finds himself in a bathroom with Alfred, an angry Brit with large eyebrows and the best looking man he's ever seen. However will it end? Franada. Background USUK.


_**Another AU from the same Tumblr post as Lost In IKEA.**_

_**Here's the link again, no credit for the idea belongs to me, nor do I own Hetalia.**_

post/107763886683/thrilling-new-au-scenarios-for-your-otps

"We both have friends who party too hard and we keep running into each other in the bathroom while we hold their hair back"

Matthew took another sip from his bottle of water as he watched Alfred down his fifth shot of the hour. Matthew had only agreed to come with Alfred because he was fully aware that his brother wouldn't be able to make it home on his own. At least the music had calmed down at this point. Matthew glanced down at the many couples that had resigned to making out on the sofa. University parties were never Matthew's favourite, mostly for this reason. Last time he attended one, he'd tried his best to put himself out there and he had ended up sleeping with a white haired German man that never called him back. He'd rushed out of the bedroom shouting something about a Roderich that he needed to get back to. Gilbert! That was his name. That was when Matthew had decided that university parties weren't really his thing.

At least, until Alfred decided that they were the best thing on earth and that he needed to drag Matthew along with him to meet all of his new college friends. So that was how he ended up in this position tonight. Stood next to Alfred's friend Kiku sipping from a water bottle, waiting for Alfred to do something stupid so that Matthew could drag him back home again.

"So... Anything n-new happen recently?" Matthew attempted to initiate a conversation with Kiku.

"Nothing really..." Kiku replied with a deadpan stare. Matthew sighed and looked back over to his brother who seemed to be struggling with something. After about 10 seconds of staring into space, Alfred raced off to the bathroom, a hand clasped firmly over his mouth. Matthew rolled his eyes and followed his brother up to the bathroom. Stupid Alfred.

When he reached the bathroom, Alfred was already hunched over the toilet bowl puking his guts up. Matthew knelt behind his brother and rubbed his back calmly, not sure what else he could be helping with. Beyond the sound of Alfred's constant vomiting, Matthew overheard a conversation between two men in the corner of the room.

"I wish you would be a tad more careful with your alcohol, mon ami." One of the men sighed in a thick French accent.

"Don't you tell me what I can and can't do you bloody tit. I know exactly how much bloody liquor I can take, you absolute wanker! Do you think I'm some kind of bloody child or something?" The second man replied back, his words were heavily slurred. He seemed to have drunk as much as Alfred. Maybe more.

"Arthur, you are sat in a bathroom crying over one of your ex boyfriends. Alcohol aside, that does not seem like the activities of a mature adult, non?" Matthew dared to glance briefly at the two men. One of them had eyebrows bigger than Matthew's thumb and short hair that seemed to have been ruffled.

The other was the most beautiful man Matthew had ever seen in his life. Long, flowing hair and slight stubble for a beard along with what seemed to be a damn good fashion sense. He was... He was something else.

"Sh-shut up! Git!" The second man shouted in retort, seeming to have lost the ability to find a logical argument in his defense. "Where the fuck did I put my bloody keys?" Matthew took a quick peek over to his right and saw a glint of metal to the right of the toilet, obscured from the view of the two men to his right. Whilst all the while rubbing Alfred's back (somehow in all this time his brother's stomach still hadn't emptied), Matthew reached down and grabbed the keys. Then, Matthew held the keys so they were in view of the two men and smiled.

"A-Are these your k-keys?" Matthew managed to stammer out in spite of the beautiful man's knockout grin.

"See, mon ami? There is nothing to worry about. Pray tell, what is your name, friendly stranger?"

"M-Matthew. What are y-your names?" Matthew asked as the man with the eyebrows seemed to lose track of the conversation, staring in confusion at Alfred.

"My little friend here is called Arthur. My name is Francis. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mathieu." Matthew felt his gut leap at the nickname. "What is the name of your... Friend?"

"This is m-my brother. A-Alfred." Matthew introduced Alfred who at this point, had stopped vomiting and was instead hunched over the toilet, about to pass out. "Al... W-wake up." Matthew tried to order his brother.

"Hey... Is that Artie?" Alfred murmured as he glanced over to his left. "Artie?"

"Fuck. Alfred Jones? I haven't seen you since I babysat you when you were in your third bloody grade! How the hell have you been, you wanker?" Arthur exclaimed, with a stupid smirk on his face. "Fuck you've gotten hot." He continued to ramble in his drunken state.

"I could say the same for you, Artie. Then again, you always were the hot babysitter." Arthur blushed slightly. Francis and Matthew watched the reunion in some state of awe.

"I say we leave these two to reunite alone, oui?" Francis suggested, winking at Matthew.

The two of them left the bathroom and stood in the hallway, listening to the drunken ramblings from outside the bathroom. They stood in silence for a good while.

"S-so how old are you?" Matthew attempted to break the silence after the noises from inside the bathroom became far less decent.

"I am 22. Oh, sounds like our dear Arthur is enjoying himself. Would you not agree?" Francis' reply somewhat disturbed Matthew, especially since his brother was participating in the activities behind the door.

"I... I guess. So, what do you do, Francis?"

"I am studying dance! I understand that it could be interpreted as an effeminate thing to study, however it has always been a talent of mine." Matthew almost spat out his drink.

"A dancer? That's almost as strange as my major."

"Which is?"

"Finance. I-I know, it's a b-boring thing to do."

"Nonsense! Mon cher, as long as you enjoy it, it is not at all stupid!" Francis insisted, appalled by the insinuation. "What are the chances of you being single, Mathieu? You seem far too beautiful to be free for the taking..." Francis lowered his voice and stroked Matthew's arm lightly.

"Eh?" Matthew replied as his jaw dropped. "N-no I'm s-s-single." His stutter returned with a vengeance as he became increasingly nervous.

"C'est trés bonne." Francis almost whispered as he cupped the side of Matthew's face gently. Matthew's attention was drawn from his nerves and the sweat that was probably pouring from his forehead at this point. He forgot the nerves and the stutter and as Francis moved in, Matthew moved with him. They collided and kissed and it was more than Matthew had ever expected when he'd chased his drunken brother upstairs.

Thank god for drunks.


End file.
